


Twenty 20

by Cut Myself Shaving (Two_Guns_And_A_Knife)



Category: Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:52:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_Guns_And_A_Knife/pseuds/Cut%20Myself%20Shaving
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephanie Plum. Bounty hunter. Thirty-something. Blue eyed brunette. She is on a task. Everything is at stake. She will either win it or lose it all. But still she decides to take her chance. Will she get what she wants in the end? Or will she end up empty-handed? Theme Song: Nessun Dorma Maestro Pavarotti.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nessun Dorma

**Nessun Dorma**

At a certain point of your life, you have to make your choice. Between right and wrong. Between yes and no. But who's to tell you what is wrong and what isn't? Who's to tell you instead of being happy, you should try your best to be normal? I know I am not special or outstanding. I am average. I am not exceptional. I am not unlike everyone else. I am a little(tiny bit) different. I am sometimes normal. I wish I can be smarter and braver. I wish I can be prettier and sexier. I have made a lot of stupid mistakes. I'm sure I'll keep making mistakes. I have lost my faith in marriage. I am afraid of making commitment. I hate to be a disappointment. All I want is happiness. But most of the time I can't even trust myself. Yes, I am lazy. I am weak of will. I always choose the easier paths. I don't work out. I love junk food. I fake orgasms. I use sex as a decoy. I even convince myself I like furry man with hairy butt and garlic breath. I am such a shameless liar. I should have won the Academy Award a dozen times.

Tonight, I can not sleep. I twist and turn in my narrow queen size bed, my heart and soul whining at the same time. I am lonely. I am bored. I am ashamed of myself. I am unhappy with my life. But I am afraid to change. What if I can't get anything in the end? What if I come back to the same place? What if I end up as lonely and unhappy as ever? What if everything and everyone remain the same? What if no one wants to change? What should I do with my life then? Get married? Pop out kids? Wash dishes? Do laundry? Consider myself lucky that someone wants to marry me? Eat, drink, fuck, shit, and then die? That's it? Jeez.

I sit up in bed and let out a sigh. My hair, as usual, is a mess. My left eye starts to twitch. My head starts to ache. I need to do something. I need to make myself happy. I don't want to waste away the rest of my life like this. Live in regrets. Die in boredom and, of course, loneliness. I wish I know what to do. I just bought 5 pairs of shoes and an iPhone 5. I have a little money in my bank account. I still have my not so crappy car. My landlord has agreed to pay for the new security chain and locks. I have lost a little weight. I know I look more than just okay. My biggest problem is I look more than just okay. A certain tall lean hairy Italian keeps wanting to get back into my bed—well, any place will do, it seems:

"Let's have some fun in the backseat of my brand new Chevy Equinox, Cupcake." Last week Joe Morelli smiled his seductive smile and tried his best to charm me with his bedroom eyes. "The boys miss you." He literally purred.

Oh, yes, it was a cold windy rainy Monday night, and he knew he's a really nice-looking man. Everyone says he's good in bed. He's indeed extremely experienced and always ready to try new stuff. I have known him for ages. He's safe and familiar and fun to be with. And we have a long complicated and not always pleasant history together. Normally I would have blushed and spent a couple minutes playing coy before letting him have his way with me. But that night was...special. I was having the mother of all PMS. And I hadn't heard from a certain Mocha Latte somebody for 19 days. I was feeling down and low and antsy and worried and upset and royally pissed. "The boys miss you". The slogan of the decade. The spirit and essence of Jersey Shore. The glamorous tipping point. I don't recall what exactly happened next. Let's just say Detective Morelli didn't look so sexy or friendly after I stood up and dumped the rest of my iced cold Marble Mocha Macchiato on his head and stormed away. I might have also shown him my middle finger and cussed out loud enough for all to hear, as a matter of fact. Naturally we are currently not on speaking terms(as far as I am concerned, that is). But it doesn't stop him from trying all he can to crawl back into my bed. My mother called, called, and called again. He texted, texted,and texted again. I ignore them all and imagine myself in a happy place.

Yes, I know that happy place. I have lived there several times on different occasions. It has everything, EVERYTHING that I want. But I don't have the courage to go there. Even though I know he won't turn me away. I wish I know if I have a place in his life. I wish I know if he needs someone, anyone, in his life. I wish I know what's in his head. Suddenly a picture pops up in my head. It's Tard the Grumpy Cat. "I had fun once. It was awful." It says. I love that cat. I can't stop laughing whenever I see the sweet little cat. I know Rex may feel a little jealous, but I simply can't help it. I can totally picture him saying this:

"I had fun once, babe. It was awful."

I roll around in bed and laugh like a crazy chick. I laugh so hard that I begin to cry. I close my eyes and wipe away my tears. I listen to my racing heart.I give in to my yearning soul. I get out of bed and start putting on clothes. I pack a bag. I grab Rex. I turn off the light. I lock the door. I start my car. Somehow I am feeling brave. I am going to the Bat Cave. I am moving in with Batman. If he tells me he doesn't love or need me, I will quietly walk away. I will find a nice spot by the sea. And drown myself. Naw, I'm just kidding. I'll never have the courage to die. I am not that stupid or that brave. I am just an ordinary girl. I just want to have an extraordinary life. I'm just helplessly in love with a very special man.

And I don't know what to do if he can't or won't love me back...


	2. Owner Of A Lonely Heart

**Owner Of A Lonely Heart**

I park in the usual spot. I give the security camera inside the elevator a feeble smile and a half-hearted finger wave. I unlock Ranger's door and let myself in. The 7th-floor apartment is dark, empty, and quiet. I turn on the light and drop my bag. I take off my shoes and place Rex on the spotless kitchen counter. I tell him everything is gonna be alright. I put my brand new Batman cookie jar beside the glass aquarium. I try not to doubt myself. I sit down on the couch and start feeling a little upset. Of course I know I am the Queen of Denial. I am also not the cleverest woman alive. Right now my heart is still thumping in my ears. I'm still afraid that my phone will ring anytime and Ranger will tell me to get out and go back. I'm afraid that he'll say he doesn't want me by his side. He's tired of my cliché and drama. There's no place for a woman like me in his life. I tell myself to be brave and blow out a sigh. I feel small and lonely and cold in the vast living room. I feel antsy and scared at the same time. I heard that love will make you blind. What if I am blind to my own flaws and wrongs? What if I am blind to Ranger's flaws and wrongs? What if he's not as perfect as I believe he is? What if his secrets are too dark and too much for me to bear? Is it true that true love shall prevail? Will my love for him be enough? Am I good enough? Am I strong enough? Am I smart and brave enough to play this dangerous game? Should I believe in fairy tales? Will there be a Happily Ever After?

I give myself a mental head-slap and roll my eyes. I pick up my bag and start to unpack. I busy myself with happy, constructive thoughts. My hairbrush. My toothbrush. My hair and skin products. My pills and other girly stuff. I spend a whole minute looking at Ranger's razor and aftershave. The bathroom is filled with the delicate scent of his shower gel. My eyes travel to the thick soft towels. The towels Ranger uses to dry himself. The texture. The softness. The feel. The taste. The warmth. The heat. The smooth flawless skin. The barely there smile. The perfect muscles. The pleasure. The sensation. The words he whispered in my ear. I float out of the bathroom and start to put away my clothes, my shoes, my panties and bras. My hands linger on his shirts, his jacket, and his socks. Why his socks? His simple black, white, and grey cotton socks. My pink and white and sky-blue socks look cute by their side. My cherry red high heel slippers look perfect beside his black combat boots. I force my hands off his black boxers and close the drawer. The night is deep. The wind is high. I wonder where Ranger is. I wonder what should I say to him. Maybe I should play cute? Like a sexy dumb blonde? Solve everything with battering eyelashes, seductive smile and bone-melting sex? Nope. He won't fall for that. He's too damn sophisticated and way too smart. He knows I am not as cheap and easy as some people say. He knows I can be clever and creative if I set my mind to it or when I am in the right mood. Even though sometimes I am a tiny little bit shallow and superficial...

Something tugs at the back of my mind. I stand up and pad out of the bedroom. Ranger steps out of the elevator the moment I open the front door. He doesn't raise his brow. He doesn't smile. He doesn't say a word. He's not surprised to see me here. I bite my lower lip. I try to smile but fail. I can't decipher his mood. All of a suddenly fear grabs my heart. His eyes are tired and cold. He looks exhausted and worn. He's limping a little. Is that blood on his shirt? My eyes widen. My breath catches in my throat. I start to tremble a little. I have never seen him like this. What the hell happened? Is he hurt?

"Are you okay?" I hear myself asking. I can barely recognize my voice. Shaky. Broken. Raspy. And fearful.

"Ran into an old friend of mine." He cuts his eyes to me. He tucks a wandering curl behind my ear. His hand is steady, dry, and warm. He softens and almost smiles. "Settled an old score."

Ranger limps into the apartment. Like a scared kitten I follow him. He drinks some water. He looks at the Batman cookie jar. He goes into the bedroom. He gingerly takes off his boots and clothes. I stare at the developing bruises on his perfect body. I know I should see the other guy. But still I nearly whimper. I know he's hurting. I am scared. I am terrified. And I almost cry as reality slowly settles in. The man I love has enemies. He lives a dangerous life. He's willing to pay the price for what he did. He plays by his own rules. He's human. He bleeds. He hurts. He can be killed. He won't live forever. Someday he's going to die. Just like everyone else. One day I'm going to lose him. To Death.

"Batman is human, too, babe." Ranger cups my face with both hands. "But I don't plan to die anytime soon." He gives me his 200 Watt smile and then kisses me.

I cry. And cry harder.

He kisses away my tears.

He drives away my fears.

And I totally forget to inform him that I have officially moved in with him. Well, it isn't my fault. Really. I swear...


	3. May It Be

**May It Be**

Love. Independence. Self-esteem. Orgasm. Pleasure. Tears. Moans. Gasps. Gentleness. Passion. The touch of skin. The feel of lips. Safe. Warm. Comfort zone. Familiar fear. The tickling of rain. Soft even breathing. I open my eyes and see the vague darkness. The images in my dream linger a little and slowly melt away. The 7th-floor apartment bedroom. The king size bed. Ranger. Next to me. Naked. The both of us. It's still early. Did I hear his voice talking into the phone a while ago? Or is that a dream? He's still soundly asleep. I feel timid and shy. I feel delicate and vulnerable. I feel happy and brave. I don't feel like me. I turn my head a little to look at him. I want to protect him. I will give my life to protect him. I will do all I can to keep him safe. I need him to be safe. I want him to be safe. He's who he chooses to be. He walks the path he picks. And I love him so much that I scare myself. In a perfect world things will work out alright and everybody will be happy. But this is not a perfect world. I know the truth too well. I ache to reach out my hand to feel him. I long to snuggle closer to him. I need to rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. I'm dying to feel his existence. I don't want to wake him. He needs his rest. He needs his sleep. But I have to pee.

I ease out of bed as quietly as I can and sneak into the bathroom. My hair must be crazy, my eyes swollen and puffy. I'm sitting on Ranger's toilet, naked. Just like Long Term Relationship Barbie, I suddenly realize. Jeez. I feel my eyes twitching. I hope Ranger won't come in without knocking and start brushing his teeth. One reason I decided to break up with Joe is that I know one day we will end up like Al and Peggy in **_Married With Children_**. We will both be bitter. We will both be bored and boring. We will drive each other crazy. We will become an angry tacky couple. And the children will be the tools we use to taunt, humiliate, and hurt each other. No one in the family will be happy. We will end up hating each other. I won't be his Martha Stewart. He won't be my Hugh Jackman. We will always doubt our decision. We will keep asking ourselves "What if?". We will spend the rest of our lives dreaming about the path not taken. I will never become the kind of woman Joe wants and needs. He's just not right for me. I don't want to live in regrets and die in loneliness.

I wince a little as I flush the toilet. I wrap Ranger's robe around me. My little furry pet gets extra cranky when hungry, and I need a glass of water. I silently pad into the kitchen. I fill Rex's food plate, drink the water, and find Batman smiling at me. He looks cool in his mask and cape and I know he likes it here. Yeah, who wouldn't like Ranger's bright airy spacious tastefully decorated apartment? Who wouldn't like to be dusted by Ella and filled with all kinds of super yummy homemade cookies? Maybe I can learn to make cookies. Maybe I can learn to cook rice and exotic cuisines. Maybe I can take kick-boxing lessons and learn self defense. Maybe I will even go to the gun range and learn to clean my gun. Life is full of possibilities. And I know I need to change. I like who and what I am. But I know I can be better. I want to get smarter. I need to be braver. I want to be able to jump in front of Ranger and block the bullet. I would rather die than lose him. He can't die. He's my Batman. He's my mentor. He's my friend. He is supposed to be invincible. He's the man I love. He was shot many times by a mad man inside my apartment. He survived the ordeal. But nobody knows what's gonna happen tomorrow. I don't like to end up like Arwen Undómiel. I don't want to die of a broken heart after the death of Aragorn, Ranger of the North. Death is inevitable, that mush I know.

I swallow my sorrow and wipe away my sentimental silly tear. I take off the robe and crawl back in bed. The morning light has arrived, I notice, and now Ranger is awake. He raises his brow at me and gathers me in his arm. He doesn't say a word. He looks cozy and calm. He's definitely feeling better. I, on the other hand, feel more than a bit worn and torn.

"Go back to sleep, babe." He kisses me and smiles a Johnny Depp-like smile. "Today has been cancelled."

I look into his beautiful eyes and almost get lost. I blink and feel my tears coming back. God, I hate feeling fragile. I am stronger than this. I'm a grown woman. I learn from my mistakes. I live by my decisions. But still it shakes me a little when I hear myself tearfully say, "I love you, Carlos Manoso."

The beautiful smile reaches Ranger's eyes and he quietly says: "I know, Stephanie."

I hear the unsaid words. And I nearly die of happiness.


	4. With Or Without You

**With Or Without You**

Sometimes I wonder if I really know what love is. My first marriage is a farce worse than the fabulous and most educating **_Jersey Shore_**. The Italian Stallion I used to share my bed with till the week before the last is a hairy Chauvinist pig. When I was young, my mother, aunts and Grandma Plum taught me that there's nothing more important than finding a man with a respectable job, a nice 2-story house, and a steady income. He may snore. He may cheat. He may slap you around a little bit when he's drunk. He may scratch his balls in public and talk dirty. But as long as he brings home bacon, you must love, respect, honour him and bear him kids. A woman's duty, that's what they called it. Too bad it turned out I couldn't handle being cheated on and finally snapped when being talked dirty to in public for the thousandth time.

Sometimes I think my life is just like  _ **The Nanny**_. Fran Fine, as well as I, had to find a new job ASAP when she found herself suddenly out of employment. Miss Fine is a Queens native with an attitude and not a qualified nanny. I was a desperate bankrupt Jersey girl who blackmailed her pervert of a cousin and got a job she wasn't trained for. Miss Fine has a bored father, a nagging mother, a gossipy best friend, a shameless ex who cheated on her, and Grandma Yetta. I have my parents, Mary Lou, the Dick, and Grandma Mazur. Miss Fine fell for the exotic rich Mr. Sheffield and became friends with Niles the butler. I am in love with Ranger and dream one day Ella will adopt me. We both have crazy hair. Our mothers can't wait to marry us off. She hates C.C. Babcock, the snobby blonde. I was and still am allergic to the ever so perfect Jeanne Ellen Burrow. Funny, isn't it? Who says real life is not like fiction or TV? And who's copying who, if I may ask?

Fran and Mr. Sheffield had their happy ending after all those hilarious twists and turns. Right now at this moment, I am nestling by Ranger's side feeling comfy and safe. His leg is feeling better. Some of bruises actually don't look that bad under daylight. Most of the pain and the swellings have ebbed. He, as usual, is quiet and calm and doesn't look uncomfortable at all. I, on the other hand, am definitely growing curious. I haven't mustered enough courage to ask him, though. He will tell me what happened and who that old friend is. When he's ready. If he's ready. If he thinks I need to know. He's a man of many secrets and few words. He will tell me a little if I insist to know. But I don't want to be a nosy annoyance. I don't want to disturb this intimate moment. I don't need a marriage certificate and a diamond ring. I want more than a marriage certificate and a diamond ring. I want to be the reason he smiles. I want to be the rhythm of his heart. I want to be the strength of his soul. I want to be the love of his life. I want to be the center of his universe. His sole existence completes me. I can still see the millions of emotions in his eyes when he made love to me.

"More..."

"Harder..."

"Don't stop!"

I blush as I recall the words I breathed in his ear. What can I say? I'm just not a "YES!" and "Oh God!" type of girl. I am shy and conservative in my own way. And Ranger does have magical hands. And magical tongue. And magical...

 _"You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness. L_ _ike resignation to the end, always the end..."_ I let out a happy sigh as my cell phone starts to sing. I flat-out love this song. I like Darren Criss's voice. Connie, Lula and I all think Gotye looks too much like a sad vampire and Matt Bomer is really cute. He's not as cute as Johnny Depp, of course. And Ranger is the cutest of them all(though he claims he doesn't do cute). He's cute and adorable in his own tricky subtle way. You have to tilt your head and squint your eyes a little to see through that calm and sometimes scary blank face and all those perfect, intimidating muscles. Once you find the man hidden under, you will never be able to let go.

 _"And I don't wanna live that way._ _Reading into every word you say._ _You said that you could let it go._ _And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know~~~"_  My phone falls silent for several seconds and then starts singing again. I bob my head and quietly sing along. I'm not exactly a bad singer, but I'll be shamelessly lying if I say I have a heavenly voice. And nope, I'm not gonna answer my phone. Let my mother leave another message in my voicemail. I'm tired of all those warnings and threats. There's nothing wrong remaining a single lady. I'm pretty sure I won't live in loneliness and die in regrets. Now I have my Batman with me. I don't care what people think or say about me. Rex and I and the cookie jar will all be happy. And if one day Ranger can't come back to me...

"I'm going to become a crazy old cat lady." I turn to look Ranger in the eyes and say just a tiny little bit tearily. "I won't give myself away to another man just because I lose you and I'm afraid of loneliness. True love can't be replaced. I'll be brave and spend the rest of my life with all the cats and our happy memories. Just promise me when you come to take me away, you won't tell me: 'Jeez, you've become a fat old white woman, babe.'"

Ranger stares at me for a full minute and then bursts into laughter. I've never seen him laughing so hard before and I become a little anxious. He wraps me tighter in his arm and when he finally stops laughing, kisses me passionately and tenderly till we have to break apart to breath.

"I don't do 'Jeez', Stephanie." Ranger gently traces a finger along my jawline and almost solemnly says.

Ah, Ranger humour. I lose myself in his dark beautiful eyes and somewhere out there in the universe, my phone stops ringing...


	5. Rock Me Amadeus

 

**Rock Me Amadeus**

Ranger smells clean, fresh, and oh so yummy. His hair's still wet from the shower. A drop of water glistens like a star in the morning light and silently falls onto the floor. His eyes are shining and bright. He has the most perfect chest and the most perfect arms I've ever seen. I'm totally in love with the muscles on his perfect back. He has several faded scars but no tattoo. The Rock's tribal tattoo will look great on his perfect muscular body. Primitive. Wild. Untamed. Beautiful. Powerful. Sexy. I'd love to trace those simple yet complicated lines and patterns on his dark smooth skin...with a curious exploring finger...or with the tip of my brave eager tongue...Yes, it will definitely be fun...very, very fun...

"I'm Cuban, babe, not Samoan. Their tribal tattoos have deep cultural meanings."

Ranger drapes a towel around his waist. His 1000 Watt smile makes me feel a little faint. I sigh dreamily. I just love it when he reads my mind like an open book(a picture book actually, it seems). He kisses me softly, ruffles my hair, and walks into the humongous closet. I know I should get out of bed, grab a shower, and start getting dressed. Our off day is officially over. Our lives have to go back on their normal, usual tracks whether I like it or not. I have petty thieves and serial drunk drivers to catch. Batman has the world to save. My mother finally stopped calling around four o'clock yesterday afternoon. According to a text from Val, it may not be a bad idea for me to start learning how to cook and make pineapple upside-down cake now that my mother is no longer talking to me. She's pretty upset, apparently. With me. With my lifestyle. With my reluctance to settle down, be normal, and stay safe. With all the ridiculous choices I made and all the improper friends I keep. I'm going to miss my mother's pot roast, mashed potatoes, and gravy. I will probably dream about them and moan in my dream. But that's okay, I guess. Sooner or later I will have to cut the umbilical cord. I have to stand on my own feet one day. I may not be a woman with strong domestic instincts, but don't they say it's never too late to start learning? And I am not a slow learner, I'm proud to say. Just last night I...

I...

I...

I still can't believe I was that creative and...bold(?). But it was worth it. Totally. I swear. And maybe I'll try it again this weekend...Connie and Lula will definitely put that smirk on their faces when they see me and say I have that GLOW while wiggling their brows in a meaningful way. I will definitely gawk at them for a whole minute and blush like a silly teenage girl. They will fan themselves vigorously and then narrow their eyes at me demanding to know all the delicious details. I will put on a fierce resistance in the beginning but later cave just a tiny little bit...And hopefully Connie will remember to find and destroy Vinnie's bug somewhere around her desk before this all starts.

And will Ranger one day become family material? Will he want to put a ring on my hand? Will he cup my face with both hands, look me in the eyes, and tell me he wants us to have a child? I know I will say yes. I know I will be willing to make all the necessary changes. I know he be a wonderful husband. He will be a great father. But it's also okay with me if he doesn't want to be bonded by marriage and children. I know I am not exactly mother material. I am not necessarily a great fan of children, either. I can be lazy and willful sometimes. I will do anything and everything just to avoid troubles. I know how to adjust and cope. And then one day Ranger will sell his share of RangeMan(maybe when Julie is grown) and move to a warm, beautiful place. A place where no one knows his past or my name. We will live together in sin till we are both old with silver hair. We will walk hand in hand on soft white sand. We will stand side by side at sunset and breathe in the fresh clean air. I will wash the dishes and he will cook. Maybe we will adopt a kitten and name him Richard Parker or Mr. James Bond...

"Earth to Babe,"

I hear the grin in Ranger's deep soft voice and look up. How can you not fall in love with eyes like that? How can you not want to kiss those lips and taste that smile? How can you not want to wrap yourself in those arms and declare your endless love? How can you...how can you...My nose starts to twitch. My mouth starts to water. Strawberry pancakes. With fresh whipped strawberry cream and fresh strawberry sauce. And coffee. Perfectly brewed hot steaming coffee. Oh my God! I love Ella!

"Breakfast is here." Ranger adds helpfully as he pulls me up and wraps me in the robe. A warm shiver strolls down my spine as his fingers momentarily brush against my bare skin.

"I've moved in with you." From a faraway happy place I hear myself whisper a bit breathlessly.

He raises a brow at me, kisses me on the top of my head, gently propels me toward the living room and makes me melt in happiness: "Yeah, I noticed."

 


	6. Take My Breath Away

**Take My Breath Away**

"Cupcake," Joe Morelli gets out of his brand new Chevy Equinox and smiles his charming smile at me. "Long time no see."

His voice is as dense and sweet as double peanut butter chocolate fudge. The strong scent of his musky cologne makes me hold my breath and squint my eyes. Today he's smartly dressed in an ocean blue suit and a cloudy-sky blue tie, and for once his too long curly brown hair is sleekly oiled back. He looks just like an Italian gangster from an old Coppola movie. Beside me, Gioanna Mcalister, my thirty-nine-year-old single-with-two-poodles skip, batters her eyelashes coyly and whispers "Oh, my!" in a raspy throaty voice.

I snort and roll my eyes. Gioanna was arrested for DUI and missed her court date because one of her dogs ate a whole pack of bubble gum. Right now she's looking at Morelli the way a boa constrictor looks at an extra juicy pig. Not many women have the ability to see through a pretty face, I guess. All the moms and grannies used to let Morelli get away with whatever he did once he gave them his bright innocent smile and a casual shrug that said:"Well, I didn't mean it." I know he's going to testify in court later in the afternoon. I also heard the tall curvy blonde newly divorced assistant D.A. has a thing for dark Italian man. Hope she likes hairy butt and furry legs.

Morelli's smile morphs into a confident seductive grin as he takes a step closer toward me, his eyes now two pools of silky smooth melted milk chocolate. Ah, the familiar bedroom eyes. And the ever lingering hint of garlic and beer. I look into his eyes and frown in total confusion. What did I see in him? Why did I keep letting him crawl back into my bed? What was wrong with me? Was I that stupid? Was I under a spell or something? Why did I follow him into his father's dirty garage? Why did I let him come behind the bakery counter? Why didn't I back up Big Blue and run over him again? Why didn't I snatch my pizza from his hand and slam the door in his face? Why the HELL did I open my eyes and pick his name instead of Ranger's? God, I hate being stupid. I clench my fists and fight the overpowering urge to smack myself on the head. I then take a long breath to calm myself. Too bad it doesn't work.

Do not regret your mistakes, some say.

For the mistakes you made make you who you are today, some say.

But all the mistakes I made only lead to endless self-loathing and and waves after waves of self-doubts. And sometimes, when I'm tired, frustrated, lonely, or upset, they make me feel extremely stupid and thus hungry for blood. Nope, I am most definitely not above revenge. Morelli's grin deepens as he creeps even closer. Now I can almost sense the heat radiating off his body and feel his breath on my face. I narrow my eyes and suddenly realize he's trying to play cool. I have blocked his number on my phone. He can't even send me text. Trying a new tactic, are we, Joe? Being all so cool and charming and calm? Like a rational mature attractive adult? As if I am fast, cheap, easy, and predictable? As if I have never seen an oh so delicious man in a perfectly-fit bespoke suit? As if I have never pried that sleek black shirt off that perfect muscular Mocha Latte body and run my tongue all the way down his rock-hard abs? My eyes glaze over as I let out a soft dreamy moan. Morelli's brows draw together and his nose starts to twitch.

"Cupcake, you smell so familiar..." He frowns in fierce concentration and then his eyes suddenly widen like two 12-inches pizza plates. "You smell like...you smell like Range—"

Morelli never gets to finish the sentence. He drops to the ground and starts to twitch, his melted chocolate bedroom eyes rolling into the back of his head, his whole body spasming wildly. Several bystanders gasp. I blink a couple times. I gawk at Morelli. I gawk at Gioanna. I gawk at the the taser in Gioanna's well-manicured hands. Did I remember to tell you I love her pearly pink nail paint?

"I just remembered the color of his car is called Twilight Blue Metallic." Gioanna says matter-of-factly with a casual shrug, "And I hate  _ **Twilight**_."

I stare at her for a second and burst into giggles. Ah, don't we all, my friend?

 


	7. Smooth Operator

**Smooth Operator**

I wonder if Tank knows who Ranger's "old friend" is.

Was he there when they settled the old score? Did he watched them fight with a dark foreboding frown? Was he tempted to intervene? No, of course he won't tell me what happened. He's Ranger's friend. He watches Ranger's back. He's a good man. He has marriage phobia and he loves cats. He has his own share of dark secrets. He knows what's between Ranger and I. He knows it's for Ranger to decide.  _ **I**_ know it's for Ranger to decide. But I was born curious and I just can't help it. I do know how to keep a secret, though. And I can be really patient if needed. I may not be smart, strong, and tough, but I can handle the truth. Well, one can always hope, I guess.

I look into the mirror and try to raise my brow. And as expected, I fail. I don't know how Ranger does it. He makes it look so easy. And he looks so cool and cute and yummy when he looks at me with one brow effortlessly and gracefully raised. He makes me want to blush and smile and laugh and moan and push him down onto the bed and kiss him hard and have my ways with him till my heart screams in ecstasy and my soul melts in heavenly bliss. He makes me want to do all kinds of wonderful things. He makes me want to chase all my impossible dreams. Maybe he really is Batman. Maybe he really is magic. But now I know he's also just a man. He has hopes, wishes, dreams, worries, and fears. He, too, has to eat, drink, sleep and pee. He bleeds. He hurts. He has feelings and a temper. He makes mistakes and his patience is not unlimited. He's vulnerable, sensitive and delicate in his own way. One day his heart is going to stop. One day his life is going to end. But I will always be there by his side. I will hold his hand tight when darkness falls. I will help him out. I will keep him safe. I will make him smile. I will be his happiness, just as he is mine.

Ah, love does make one poetic, does it not?

I let out a happy sigh. I grab my keys and pick up my bags. I say goodbye to my ugly bathroom and my narrow queen size bed. I stop at the door and turn around to have one last look at my shabby apartment. My eyes linger on the spot where Ranger fell after being shot. I feel the weight of my keys in my hand. I remember the redness of his blood. I remember the shearing pain that tore my heart apart. If only Grandma wasn't here the night Ranger kissed me on the floor...If only I was braver and more honest with myself...So many things have happened here. So many chances have been so carelessly thrown away. I was being a fool back then. But now I have changed. Every kind of relationships in this world is about give and take. If you keep your heart straight and your fingers crossed and play all your cards right, life can be very simple and you can finally be with the man you really love. You will wake up next to him feeling like you are the Queen of the Universe. You will curl by his side and fall asleep knowing every single day of the rest of your life will a brand new Happily Ever After. And there will always be a huge smile on your radiant face even if your mother is still not talking to you. I slowly walk out of my apartment and lock the door. I return my keys to Dillon and hug him goodbye on my way out. No more firebombs. No more dangerous intruders. No more crazy accidents. No more repairing and remodeling. No more increased insurance fee. My poor landlord will no doubt burst into joyful tears. Maybe he will have to put up a sign to inform all my crazy, demented, mentally disturbed and sometime a little bit violent stalkers and skips that I have already moved out. But still.

The parking lot is nearly empty. I get in my car, start the engine, and suddenly feel a cold shiver crawling down my spine. I break into cold sweat and start trembling. I almost panic. I almost cry. I force myself to calm down. I tell myself to act normal. I put a small smile on my face and turn on the music. I sing along with the song as I drive away:

 _"Starships were meant to fly._ _Hands up and touch the sky._ _Can't stop 'cause we're so high. L_ _et's do this one more time._ "

My voice is shaky, my breathing is short and irregular, and my heartbeats are wild. Someone is watching me. And not in a good way. I, as usual, don't have my gun with me. He's near. Very near. Too near, as a matter of fact. I can literally taste his raging malice. I pretend I didn't see him. Lean. Muscular. Short dark hair. Caucasian. Late thirties or early forties. Eyes hidden behind a pair of military issue sunglasses. His face is still swollen and bruised. The tattoo on his neck looks angry, aggressive, and ugly. It gives me the creeps and I totally hate the color combination. He's driving an ordinary black SUV. He's trying not to attract unwanted attention and cause unnecessary troubles. He doesn't want to complicate things. He's waiting for the perfect moment. He's biding his time. He will act as soon as he gets the chance. He's highly trained and extremely experienced. He will make it quick and simple. He will have no mercy.

" _Get on the floor, floor. Like it's your last chance. If you want more, more. Then here I am._ "

Nicki Minaj. I like Nicki Minaj. This is such a cute song. I love the fire dancers in the MV. Samoan fire dancers. Tribal tattoos. The Rock, in  ** _Faster_**. Slow justice is no justice. The Avenger. No mercy. No forgiveness. The Driver. His beautiful Samoan tribal tattoo. His powerful magnificent muscular body. His dark sharp eyes. His sad tortured past. "It doesn't matter what you think!" Million Dollar smile. Irresistible charm. Bright eyes. Killer smile. Beautiful. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Wicked sense of humour. The Rock and Ranger. They are so much alike.

"When shit happens, babe, run like Hell."

I step on the gas with all I might. I fly through a red light. I take a sudden turn and fly through two more red lights. Sharp brakes. Car horns. People screaming. I take another turn. I am a Jersey girl. I am way better than the best New York driver. I know my city and my streets. My phone starts to ring. My tears escape. So does my snot. I am scared to death, I admit. I think of Eddie Abruzzi and Benito Ramirez. I think of Edward Scrog. And I know that ringtone. Batman. My Batman.


	8. It's A Sin

**It's A Sin**

Professionals. Mercenaries. Weathered soldiers. Trained killers. Old friends. Old enemies. Cloaks and daggers. Guns and knives. Unhealed scars. Dark secrets. Push me away to keep me safe. I love you in my own way. It's complicated. There's all kinds of love. I drive through the streets thinking irrelevant thoughts. "Babe, calm down and do as I say." Cool. Collected. Nonchalantly. Ricardo Carlos Manoso. Security expert. Ex-special forces. Bounty hunter. Cuban Sex God. Men of Mystery. Typical Ranger. Not exactly family material. The man I need. The man I love. I hear sirens. I hope no one got hurt in the chaos I caused. Thank God for tear-proof mascara. Just another day in Stephanie's life. Fun, adventure, creepy bad guy, car chase, and several drops of tears. Real life is more exciting than cinema. At least this time there was no fire bomb involved. My tears have already stopped, and now I need to blow my nose and get back to RangeMan ASAP. And it started as a such perfect day. I giggle. Must be the stress.

A shining sleek black SUV flies down the opposite lane. I know the driver. I know that car. "Go!" Hal mouths at me. He no longer looks shy or nice. He looks serious and earnest. He looks like a soldier ready for battle. He looks like a pro. He is a soldier. He is a pro. I step harder on the gas. I dare not look into the rear mirror. I am curious but I am also frightened. I don't know why I am so scared. I am not used to unreasonable fear. The mean and dangerous-looking tattooed man is the reason why Ranger looked so exhausted and worn that night. He's the reason why Ranger was limping; he's the cause of all those bruises and swellings. He's after me for a reason. I, just as Julie, am one of Ranger's few weaknesses. Another shining sleek black SUV flies by. Another one of the Merry Men is behind the wheel. Ram. Another soldier. Well trained. Highly focused. Geez. A blue-eyed wild-haired damsel in distress. A bunch of tall quiet muscular knights in shining black armours. A tower on top of the heavily guarded castle. A medieval romantic thriller. The White Tree of Gondor. Elves. Orcs. Hobbits. The Riders of Rohan. Ranger of the North. Still a better love story than Twilight. I try to giggle but fail. Instead I let out a sob. Must be my crazy hormones. It all seems so real and so unreal.

The gate is already open when I turn into the underground garage. I blow my nose and smooth my hair before getting out of the car. Ranger doesn't like to mix business with personal affairs. He's cooler and calmer when he's mad. I get off the elevator at the 5th floor. I might as well make myself useful before he gets back. I put on my best smile and pray that I don't look crazy or scary. Tank gives me a small nod after making sure I am not hurt. God bless Rodriguez and his tons of search requests. I lose myself in the computer world. Someone puts a bottle of Coke on my desk. A chocolate doughnut mysteriously appears. I devour the doughnut and gulp down the Coke. I glue my eyes to the computer screen. Did I have lunch today? I can't remember. Did I run out of tampons? I don't remember. What did the tattooed man plan to do to me? Hold me for ransom? Use me as bait? Burn my arm and make me scream into my phone? Burn my body and sink the evidence? Sink my body and burn the evidence? Chop off my ears and fingers and toes and Fedex them to Ranger? Torture me, violate me, and send the video to him? What happened between them? Why does he want to hurt Ranger? Were they in the Army together? Were they once friends? What did Ranger do? Or is Tatts Man just plain psycho and naturally murderous?

I concentrate on the task at hand. I print out files after files. When Mr. Rodriguez arrives to work tomorrow morning, he will be a very happy man. My eyes become sore. My stomach growls. But I refuse to stop. I need to keep my hands moving. I need to keep myself occupied. I don't know where Ranger is. Wherever he is, I hope he is safe. I need him to be safe. I need to think happy thoughts. I need to stop worrying. Maybe this is what Joe meant. A simple ordinary girl like me shouldn't get involved with a crazy loose Cuban cannon. He has a troubled soul. He has a shady past. He operates in grey shady zones. He has dangerous crazy enemies. He toys with the laws. "Cupcake, one day he'll get you killed."

I feel the familiar tingling sensation at the back of my neck. I look up and hear Ranger's voice. The calm and assertive pack leader gives out short clear orders to his calm and alert men. My heart skips a beat when he turns to look at me and raises his brow at the pile of files in the outbox. It's been a long tiring day. I am hungry and tired. I am frightened and scared. I probably look like a mess. But right now at this moment all I want is to push him onto the floor, kiss him with all I have, tell him how much I love him and have my way with him. And I am going to name our son Carlos.

Someone chokes on a bark of laughter. Someone sniggers. Someone starts to shake with silent laughter. The smarter and cleverer ones smile but wisely look away and keep their silence. Tank blinks twice as if he can't believe his ears.

"Babe," Ranger gives me his 1000 Watt smile. And I suddenly feel much, much better. Our someday has not been cancelled.


	9. Twist Of Fate

**Twist Of Fate**

I had a little glass of wine at dinner, very nice wine. Fruity and smooth. Not woody at all. I am a little intoxicated but not drunk. It's all very complicated. Life and stress and burdens. Wrong decisions. One fatal mistake. Enemies and friends. Love and hate. In a blink of an eye it all changed and who is dead remains dead. Ranger doesn't talk much about his younger days. Wars and fights and battles. Sex and drugs and cigarettes. Latino gang. His mother's tears. His father's rage. Newark streets. Miami sun. Little Cuba. A cat. A dog. A grandfather's love. And the sound of ocean waves.

He has changed.

I watch in silence as he loads his guns and sheaths his knife. I love the touch of his fingers on my skin. I love the sound of his breathing in my ear. What was he thinking the day he dropped out of Rutgers? How was he feeling the day Julie was born? He was thousands of miles away. Has he ever regretted the choices he made? Was it love at first sight when he met me for the very first time? Why didn't he stay the night he came to my aid? I was cuffed naked to my own shower curtain rod and my apartment was trashed. I could use some comfort and a hug would be nice. And he just left.

I think of his Navy SEAL friend, the man who gave him the SEAL cap and then died. I still don't know his name. Did he have wife and kids? Did he die in the desert? Did he die in a rainforest? Did he have a flag over his casket? Did he see his whole life flash in front of him and think: "Crap!" when the bullet came? Live a dangerous life. Leave loved ones behind. Enjoy life while you may. Every day can be your last. Did Ranger, too, feel the same? Is that the reason why he read Carl Sandburg? The fog comes on little cat feet. Was he, too, afraid of death? The continuous encounter with the unknown makes you sentimental, I guess.

"You are a nice guy." I say. Ranger looks up at me and raises his brow. He's dressed all in black and he almost smiles. He looks like a leopard, a panther, a tiger that's ready to strike and purr. He's a simple yet complicated man. He's beautiful and dangerous. He's passionate and ferocious. He scared and confused the Hell out of me. He made me a deal I couldn't resist. We both knew how much I wanted him. He has my trust. He has my heart. He made me realize what love means. "You are a wonderful man."

He's about to set off for the hunt. He thought he had settled the old score but he was wrong. They didn't find the ordinary black SUV but they will try to flush him out. Rick Anderson, that's Tatts Man's name. Freelance/Contract military worker. Mercenary. Ex-Navy SEAL. Special forces vs special forces. He didn't come here alone and this time it's for real. An epic battle. A whole-scale war. Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. King Elessar and the Dark Lord of Mordor. Only one can live.

"I love you." I say. "I have been in love with you for a very long time." And the survivor won't return unscratched. "Don't get shot." I think a little and quickly add, "And don't get stabbed." I know I will hate it if he gets hurt. Because of me. Yep, I know it's not exactly about me. But still.

We look at each other in the eyes. It's the calm before the hurricane. It's the smell of dampness before the pouring rain. Something is going to happen tonight. It may change our lives forever. We may never be the same. And now it's too late for prayers. Some mistakes can never be forgiven. Some wounds will never be healed. Everything was decided the day Rick Anderson's arrogant mistake or carefully staged betrayal got Ranger's good friend killed.

Ranger takes a step closer and wraps me in his arms. I close my eyes and let myself melt against his perfect body as our lips meet and seal. I so want this moment to last. I don't want this kiss to end. But I know I have to let go. Batman has to be Batman. Duties and obligations. Loyalty and independence. Friendship and determination. Vows and love. And I love him as who he is. I never want him to change. Ranger cups my face in both hands. He rests his head against mine. I grasp hold of his shirt. I love the color of his deep dark eyes. I love the lines around his eyes when he smiles. I love his straight perfect nose. I love the softness and warmth of his lips and God how I love his tongue.

"Carlos is a good name for a boy, babe. Don't wait up."

And I let him go.


	10. Danger Zone

**Danger Zone**

I doze off a little before dawn. I dream of Ranger. I dream of Batman. I see a lot of familiar faces. I walk past friends and strangers. I know I am looking for something or someone. I know I know where to find it. Or her. Or him. I am inside a big domed city. The air is cool, everything is black and white, and nobody looks at me or talks to me. I see Robin and the Joker kissing. My mother dresses like Mary Poppins. Morelli is a pink and blue were-rabbit and his tail is cotton candy. The world swirls around me and I start feeling panic. I think I've just seen Tatts Man walking by with a bright red sunflower in his hand. His ugly tattoos dance and crawl all over his body and keep changing colors. But I don't know where Ranger is. I need to find Ranger but I don't know where to find him. I feel cold and small and lonely. I am frightened and scared and desperate. I need to find Ranger and keep him safe. I start running. Tears flying away from my face. I keep running through the darkness. The road is long and straight and the street lamps are dim. There's no stars and no moon. "Romeo!" I cry, "Romeo!" My voice ringing in my world. My voice disappearing in the soft darkness. I have to find him. I keep running. I am not out of breath. I have to find him. I have to find him!

I wake up and blink. Sunlight splashes through the window and everything is quiet. My face is still wet from my tears. I check the clock on the bedside table. 9:47. I'm hungry and need to pee but I am afraid to leave the bed. What if I break the balance the moment my foot touch the floor and make some bad happen? What if something bad has already happened while I was sleeping? What if Tank was too sad and too devastated to wake me? What if something has happened to Tank? I should have waited up. I shouldn't have fallen asleep. I hold Ranger's pillow closer to my heart. I suck at waiting and Ranger's pillow smells just like him. I close my eyes for a minute and take a long calming breath. I frown in confusion and get out of bed. I'm still worried sick but I'm tired of being silly. And why the Hell was I calling Romeo in my dream?

I sit down on the toilet and yawns. I know my hair is a mess and I'm still sleepy and really tired. I know life is no fairy tale. At a certain point of our life, we all have to change and learn to make adjustments. Running away screaming into the Land Of Denial won't solve anything; it'll only prolong your pain and drain all your courage. And most of the time your prayers won't be answered. Life sucks and tragedies do happen. You are on your own. You're always on your own. And there's no guarantee for happiness. Yeah, welcome to the grown-up world, Stephanie. I roll my eyes, flush the toilet, and feel the tingling sensation at the back of my neck. I stumble out of the bedroom door. My heart stops when the door silently opens. I hold my breath as Ranger walks in. No, he isn't limping. No, he doesn't appear to be hurt. He doesn't look exhausted or beaten or worn, but he's not smiling. And he has this quietness about him that makes me want to wrap my arms around him and hold him tight to my soul till the world ends and the universe ceases to exist. I take a small step forward. He drops his keys and guns and knife and takes off his boots. I take another step closer. Our eyes meet. For a long long time we do not say a word.

"Looking a little crazy, babe," Ranger finally says. His voice deep and soft, barely louder than a whisper. His eyes dark and deep and bright and gentle and make me want to trace a finger along his jaw. I want to come closer but somehow stay where I am. He walks toward me slowly like a majestic Siberian tiger or a sleek black jaguar. I'm not naïve. He's not innocent. We both knew the game we were playing. We both knew there would be a price to pay. We were both a little scared. We were both uncertain. And now things have changed. I have changed. And so has he.

It's never about sex.

It's always about love. And trust.

He gathers me into his arms. I place my hands on his chest and close my eyes as he kisses me. His kiss deepens and I melt. He's so hard and so warm. He's so perfect. He's so real. He's magic. Pure strong magic...I open my eyes and gasp. Ranger raises his brow at me. I gape at him and don't know what to say.

I forgot to wash my hands.


	11. 99 Red Balloons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: The Lunar New Year is coming this weekend. I'll be away from Feb 9th to 12th. Have fun. Stay safe.

**99 Red Balloons**

There's a huge difference between marriage and love. There was a time when I believed marriage is a must. We all have the moment when we wake up from our lies and force ourselves to swallow our regrets and hide our tears. And once in your life you will meet someone who loves you in his own way and cherishes you like no one else if you are lucky enough. Don't hesitate to confess your love for him when you find that someone. For life is short and time is precious and miracles don't happen twice. And once you let go of him, you will hate yourself for the rest of your life.

I flip the buckwheat pancake in the pan like a pro and softly hum a song. Yes, of course I can cook. Cooking is easy and I'm not an imbecile. Nope, it has nothing to do with my "suddenly budding" feminine side. I just didn't have enough motive and the right motivation in the past. I guess I have to love someone deep enough to want to cook him a meal once in a while. And I still don't feel like walking down the same path as my mother. My future second husband and my future children won't be the center of my universe. I won't change who and what I am even if I have a beautiful ring on my ring finger. I'll remain myself even if I am 8 and a half months pregnant with two little boys. I will try my best to stay brave smart clever and independent. I will always be my own woman—

"That's the spirit, babe. By the way, I smell something burning."

I jump and squeak a little bit and quickly remove the slightly(yeah, lucky me) burned pancake from the pan. Geez. Did Ranger go to Iraq as an innocent young man and find a magical lamp one night in the desert and then wake up with ESP the very next morning? It seems that he next to always knows what's in my mind. It can be a little scary or even annoying at times. But sometime it comes in very, very handy...and he's really really good in shower...and in one certain big bad black SUV...

Anyways, we didn't talk about Joe Morelli(still on my blocked list), my mother(still not talking to me), his family(I have so many questions that I don't know where to start) or Rick Anderson. We sometimes sit on the couch and watch TV together in silence and it amazes me how much I have changed. I used to be frightened of the intensity of his being. I used to be afraid that I'd be sucked into his Force Field when we were alone, awake, but not having sex. I used to avoid deep thoughts and direct contact. I used to run away at the first sign of danger. I used to try my best to ignore the strange powerful longing in the bottom of my heart. I knew I always wanted him. I also knew I didn't know what to do with him. I was not afraid of being rejected. was scared of something much much more terrifying:

What if he actually wanted to start a relationship with me but things couldn't work out between us and it became too painful for me to remain friends?

I knew I couldn't just say: "Well, at least I tried", shrug it off and carry on. I knew I would have to kill myself if things worked between him and someone else. All those what ifs and should haves would haunt my days and nights and eventually drive me insane. I would lose the courage to survive. I would never be happy. I would never be able to love again. I would spend the rest of my miserable meaningless life hating myself for not being good enough and for losing the precious chance. I pour a generous amount of the yummy expensive organic maple syrup onto the pancakes on my plate and take a small cautious bite. I don't really know how it tastes like. My eyes and mind are fully concentrated on Ranger as he, too, takes a bite, chews, and then stops and frowns.

My eyes widen. My mouth drops open. My blood freezes. My heart runs away screaming. O.M.G. I have failed. I was pretty sure his pancakes weren't burned. I feel faint as the cold dark vision of the headlines of tomorrow's newspapers fly through my eyes:

Stephanie Plum: the woman who poisoned Batman.

Ranger resumes chewing, swallows, and looks me straight in the eyes. I am enchanted by the color of his mysterious, beautiful eyes. I never realize I am holding my breath. I blink slowly as the corner's of his eyes crinkle. The corners of his eyes always crinkle whenever he smiles his rare full-on smile, and I always want to trace my finger along the small lines around his eyes.

"Yum." Ranger says nonchalantly and starts laughing.

And I so want to to kiss him and smack him at the same time.

 


	12. Up Where We Belong

**Up Where We Belong**

"Stephanie," My father looks me in the eyes and says quietly. "life is short. Try your best to be happy."

I ran into my father while trying to locate one of my smarter skips. Now we are sitting inside Pino's sharing a pizza and he is a little bit drunk and a little bit sad. Too much beer, an empty stomach, and a grieving heart. One of his friends has just died of heart attack last night. My father is never a talkative man. He seldom talks about the good old days, and he doesn't ask too much of life. Dinner on the table at 6 o'clock sharp every night and an endless supply of clean clothes and socks and he is a happy contented man. I know he cried a little when our old cat died. I never know if he ever wanted a son. He knows Albert is a good man. He feels sorry for Val. He's a good Grandpa. He never likes Dickie and he tolerated Morelli for my sake. The only reason he hasn't strangled Grandma is because he loves my mother. He used to take us here for pizza and meatball sub on Sunday noon when Val and I were young. He's like a rock in my life: he's always there; he never changes. And now when I see the sadness and loneliness in his tired old eyes, I am suddenly scared.

My father is no longer a young man. One day he will be gone. His chair will be empty. His gravy boat and cookies will remain untouched. My mother will have no reason to make pot roast and mashed potatoes on Friday nights. Not anymore. The house will be much quieter than it is now. He won't be there sitting in front of the TV flicking through the channels till he finds a baseball game. His absence will be deafening and my life will no longer be the same. I'm gonna miss him terribly. I will feel the ache in my heart and suddenly burst into tears whenever I see someone looking like him. The familiar bald spot on his head. The once broad and muscular but now meaty shoulders. The big warm hands. He didn't talk to me about birds and bees, and right now he's telling me about death and regrets. Of course I know we are all going to die one day. Of course I know I'm no longer Daddy's little girl. But still the reality hurts. I blink back my tears and try to smile. I really don't know what to say or how to react at a moment like this. The awkward moment when you realize your father is but a man and you really don't know him that well. You don't know about his dreams. You know nothing about his longings, hopes, wishes, and fears. And what you do not know scares the Hell out of you.

My father smiles at me and reaches for a slice of lukewarm pizza. I take a sip of my still cold Coke as he chews. I want to tell him I am happy now. I want to tell him I have found the man of my dream and that he loves me and I love him even though I am not a great cook or housekeeper. I want to tell my father he doesn't have to worry about me. I want to tell him not to die. I want to tell him he can't die. He's my father. He's my Daddy. And I will always be his little girl. His trouble maker of a daughter. His Stephanie. His Wonder Girl.

"Come to dinner Friday. And bring Ranger with you. Your grandmother needs someone to take her to an open casket viewing." My father's voice is soft and quiet. Like Ranger, he next to never raises his voice. And he, too, is almost always calm. His hot Italian temper only shows when Grandma gets into the bathroom before him, and he gets a little crazy whenever the Yankees are losing a must-win game. "Your mother means well. She just wants you to be happy."

We finish our pizza and Cokes in silence. My father orders me an ice cream and won't let me play the bill. He still remembers my favorite flavor. We are ready to leave when Joe Morelli comes in with a woman on his arm. Young, curvy, long-legged, and bleached-blonde. She looks like Snooki in disguise and I almost laugh. I'm glad Joe wastes no time moving on. But no, I don't think we will remain friends. We are too different. We never want the same things in life. And I heard he was royally pissed that I dumped him without warning or further notice and moved in with Ranger. Joe narrows his eyes and opens his mouth as if to sneer or snap, but quickly catches himself and shuts his mouth when he sees my father. My father is never a big mean dangerous-looking man, but he sure can do silent and intimidating pretty good. He stands all alone in the parking lot and waves at me once as I drive away.

Yes, he's indeed the rock of my life. He will always stay in my heart no matter what. And I know he always like Ranger, even if my Men of Mystery is a Phillies fan.


	13. A Matter Of Trust

**A Matter Of Trust**

Grandma and Val are already waiting for us on the front porch when we arrive.

Grandma's grin widens as we get out of the car. She looks cute in that little purple dress(my mother must have rolled her eyes and crossed herself when she first saw it). I smile at Val and silently pray she's not having another kid. Thank God poor Albert is an only child and his mother is rich. Four kids are fine but, truth be told, five are too many. And what if she's having twins? Geez. The terrible smell of poopy diapers and soured milk and non-stop wailing babies. A cold shiver creeps down my spine as the image pops up in my head. And I start feeling nervous and worried about my mother's reaction when she sees me and Ranger together.

Helen Plum was brought up properly. She is kind-hearted and old-fashioned, and she would rather die than to be rude, cold, or impolite to a guest. She will try her best to hide her emotions and try all her might to be the gracious lady of the house. She was the happiest mom in the world the day I got married. She locked herself in her room for hours the day I got divorced. She used to dislike Morelli. She changed her attitude toward him because she thought he was gonna get down on his knee, propose, and marry me. Now that Val has snared Albert, the only purpose of her life is to find a suitable man(crazy murderer or not) and marry me off. Val has always been her pride and joy. I have always been a constant shock and disappointment. My soul shudders and my heart cringes whenever she looks upward and asks: "Why me?" And whenever I see the worries in my mother's eyes, I lie. I just don't want to upset her or let her down. I'll do anything to make her smile.

I let of a small sigh and sneak a look at Ranger and he turns to raise a brow at me. He, as usual, is cool and calm. He's not exactly scared of Grandma, and he actually kind of likes my father. He doesn't snore or drool in his sleep. He's (almost) always prepared and doesn't do stupid things. And he can read my mind like an open book. Ah, the power of love and the thrill of sharing a life with a dark handsome dangerous man. I love my mother, but I don't like the the future she plans for me. I don't want to end up like her, like Val, and Mary Lou. I want more than a snoring husband, a steady life, and a bunch of beautiful kids. Maybe I am being greedy, immature,and unrealistic here. But now that I have Batman, I feel like I can have the wildest dreams and achieve anything. He's the Wizard. He's magic. And deep down within I know I hold the key to his heart. Yes, I have found the Bat Cave.

"Oh My God! Stephanie, did your hear?" Val's excited voice snaps me from my thoughts. The mischievous gleam in her clear blue eyes makes her look like the old slender and energetic Valerie Plum. I am so sorry she got cheated on and went through a tough divorce. I am so happy she found Albert and started a new life. She's a good mother, good daughter, and good wife. She may be wearing plus size clothes now but she's still the same person, I suddenly realize. She will always be my cool, smart, and pretty elder sister, and a part of me will always envy her, I guess.

"Joe Morelli is engaged!" Grandma cuts in happily.

"To Snooki's cousin!" Val exclaims.

The both of them burst into giggles. I can smell my mother's pot roast and gravy. I can hear the sound of TV coming out of the living room. Somewhere not very far a bird chirps lazily in the trees. I try to speak but can't make a sound. Ranger wraps me in his arm and smiles his Million Dollar smile.

"Too bad there won't be a Season 7 for Jersey Shore."

Damn ESP!


	14. Miss American Pie

**Miss American Pie**

We are all grown-up mature adults here. Surely we can manage to survive our usual Friday dinner without the usual mayhem. Of course I know my mother is upset. Growing up as the inferior child, I always cared very much about what my mother said and thought of me. I still do, as a matter of fact. But now things have to change. I know my priorities. I was born who I am. I, too, deserve to be happy, and I have the right to be free.

For the first time in a very long time, we eat in near silence. I take a small bite of my grilled asparagus and sneak another peek at my mother. Nope, she's still not talking to me. Not even indirectly. I know I should feel lucky. She hasn't t talked about other people's daughters and their shining diamond rings. She hasn't mentioned Joe Morelli and his (sort of) celebrity fiancée. She hasn't asked Ranger what he's going to name our kids. She's been nice, quiet, and polite, and somehow her silent treatment annoys me. I'd rather she yell at me. I'd rather she tell me why she's so displeased. I'd rather she look me straight in the eyes and tell me why she prefers Morelli. Since when did she become a big fan of his?

Joe is still the little pervert who molested me when I was six. Joe is still the teenage manwhore who slept around and on a hot summer evening sweet-talked me out of my virginity. Joe is still the arrogant sexist barbarian pig who broke into my apartment, handcuffed me, and smashed my things. He's still the rat bastard who lied about his relationship with Terry In front of my whole family. He may have a house, a dog, and a badge now, but in some way he has never ever changed. He will always be a Morelli. And I am no longer the old me. I have changed. I am not the same. What the Hell did I see in him? What the Hell did I see in Dickie? Was I blind? Simple? Or flat out stupid? Why the Hell did let down my guard and let them in? What was so wrong with me? What's my mother so unhappy about? What's her problem with me? Will I ever be good enough? Will I be able to make her smile? What the heck does she want from me?

I stick my fork through a grilled broccoli. The lemon butter is just perfect. I look up and see the small smile on my father's face. He and Ranger started talking about cars and baseball while I was lost in my thoughts. One day they will sit in front of a fire talking their Army days and the stories behind their tattoos...Nah. Ranger doesn't have any tattoo. I've checked. Thoroughly. Very. My face blushes. My anger ebbs. I will always love my mother. I'm pretty sure she loves me in her own way. There will always be some misunderstanding. We are still a family. She may not like my choices, but one day, someday, she'll get over it, and be happy for me. Well, she did make the fruit salad and grilled vegetables especially for Ranger, didn't she? And I can smell the golden moist pineapple upside-down cake and coconut ice cream all the way from here.

Yay, lucky me.


	15. Starry Starry Night

**Starry Starry Night**

I peel the wrapper off the cupcake and carefully take a bite. The lemony flavor is just perfect and the buttercream is light. Grandma has wandered off to chat with her old lady friends. Ranger had to step out to take a call. I stand all alone near the food and drink table, chewing my cupcake as quietly as possible. The new funeral home looks very nice. Death doesn't have an age limit and coffins are not only for the old. One day the bell, too, will toll for me. And I have complex feelings about open casket viewings. Sometimes the deceased looks peaceful. Sometimes the deceased looks too much alive. But most of the time they simply look stiff and strangely empty. And that always makes me sad.

I avert my eyes to the plate of chocolate chip cookies. Now is not the best time for heavy thoughts. Tonight I just want to lean my head against Ranger's shoulder and think happy thoughts after sending Grandma home. And tomorrow, when I open my eyes in the late morning, I will think of the golden moist pineapple upside-down cake in the refrigerator and smile as brightly as the sun. For once everything in my life is on the right track, and I shall be happy.

A polite-looking balding man comes over, takes a coconut butter cookie, and nods at me. He looks vaguely familiar. Have I seen him somewhere? Have we met before? Or is he one of those friendly strangers who have met or heard of me? Yeah, I am actually still kind of famous though it's been awhile since the last time I found a dead body or blew up a car.

"He was always very kind to me." The man's voice is very soft. I detect a hint of sadness in his ordinary brown eyes as he goes on. "He let me borrow his books and hired me to mow his lawn in summer. We were next-door neighbors. He never talked much, but he was the only person who really cared for me. You see, I'm not the smartest among my siblings. I'm also not a great athlete. I am the middle kid. I was, and still am, often ignored. I'm just not talented in anything. But somehow old Mr. Fisher believed in me and took me under his wing. And the day before we moved, he gave me a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. It was not a first edition or something, but it changed my world. I cried my heart out when it got lost when we moved again. Have you ever lost something so precious? Have you ever wanted to kill yourself so badly? Have you ever wanted to strangle God for such injustice? I stopped praying because I never got an answer. My parents made me go to church but my heart and soul were never there. I finally came back after all these years, but Mr. Fisher's niece and nephew had already sent him off to a senior home. They sold his house and split the money and I don't even know what happened to his cat and dog. I guess that's the reason why I have all this anger in me."

He gives a soft laugh and reaches for another piece of cookie. I don't know how to respond. Should I smile? Should I nod? Should I say something nice or sympathetic? Geez. I don't even know his name. His face, however, does look more and more familiar...

"Don't worry." The man finishes his cookie and take a strawberry cupcake. He then takes a small bite and smiles pleasantly at me. "Say hello to Vinnie for me, and tell him I'll turn myself in next week. It's a pleasure meeting you in person, Stephanie. I've heard a lot about you."

With that, he is gone. And I stand there, with a half-eaten cupcake in my hand, gaping like a goldfish as I suddenly and finally remember the balding man's name. Richard Cameron Dixon. Wanted for arson and criminal damage. One of my newest skips. And the person lying in the beautiful expensive handcrafted oak casket is Mrs. Valentino, one of Grandma's Bingo pals.

Who the Hell is old Mr. Fisher?


	16. King With No Crown

**King With No Crown**

I wake up a happy woman. My whole body is cozy and warm. My cute little pajamas are somewhere on the floor. It's yet another beautiful day. I'm ready to face the world and all its challenges. With a huge happy smile on my face. Yeah, I know I sound like one of those silly women in romance novels enjoying my life after the grand Happily Ever After. The man I love will stay young and fit and loyal. Our children will be beautiful and clever. Our days will be filled with laughter. And I'll always be smart, pretty and courageous. I roll my eyes and let out a snort. Yesterday I told Vinnie about my encounter with Richard Cameron Dixon. My weasel of a cousin gave a few fake laughs and scooted back into his office like a scared animal. Dixon seems to be a reasonable person. Maybe he will keep his promise and turn himself in without causing any trouble. Maybe he won't. Anyway, I'll figure it out and get it done. And if things get out of hand, Stay calm and ask Ranger for help. Nope. I am not a highly trained professional. I depend on my luck and instincts. I'll never become the Karate Kid. Being too proud or too stubborn will only get myself in deeper trouble. Know thy weakness. Yep, that's my new motto. I get out of bed and take a shower. I dry myself, get dressed, and sit down for breakfast. That's when my phone rings. Lula has sent me yet another YouTube link. What is it this time? Tard the Grumpy Cat? Henri, le Chat Noir? Or Pearl the Wonder Dog? I take a bite of my German apple pancake and check the video. I nearly choke.

Joe Morelli sex tape. Hard core. Not what you expect to see during breakfast. I gulp down the iced green tea. I regret my past choices. My eyes start to hurt. Hairy hands. Hairy arms. Hairy legs. Hairy back. Hairy butt. All the extra garlic in Joe's favorite tomato sauce. And the faint sour lingering scent of Joe's favorite beer. All the dirty little things he whispered in my ear. Geez. Gawd. Who's that blondie? His fiancé? Did I look as ridiculous as that bimbo? Lying there. On my back. Like a frog. Groaning. Moaning. Smiling. Like all those animals on National Geographic Channel and Animal Planet. Mating. Lusting. Hot steaming. Gorillas. What the Hell was so wrong with me? Everyone kept telling me how lucky I was to have him. And I thought I was happy with him. My phone drops from my hand. I bang my head on the table. The dull pain makes my eyes water. I need to rinse my heart. I need to cleanse my soul. I need to piece my dignity back together. I need to erase all the bad memories. I need to stop feeling like tainted. With shaking hands I grab hold of my phone and hit the button.

"I need you." With a raspy voice I whisper into the phone. I stay where I am and 30 seconds(or more, or less, I am not sure) Ranger appears inside the apartment. I look at him. I can not make a sound. I can not say a word. He reaches out a hand to feel the bump on my forehead. I was being stupid. I was being lonely. I was being afraid. I was being uncertain. I was being weak. Was it my fault? It was my fault. Ranger raises his brow. I am sure he can read my mind. He doesn't even have to ask the question. This perfect man. That perfect smile. That perfect body. Warm muscles. Smooth skin. The hidden scars. The unyielding strength. The promise. The smartest choice I have ever made. The power to heal anything. Everything.

"Kiss me." I can barely hear my voice.

He obliges. And turns me into a princess.


	17. It Wasn't Me

**It Wasn't Me**

Joe and his bucket list. I run after my crazy skip and suddenly the memory comes back to me. I run so fast that my rib cage hurts. It feels like a far away dream. The things we did together. The jokes we shared together. All the arm-waving and yelling. And Bob. Poor old Bob. He just can't help it. He spends so much time alone every day. He gets so lonely. He has to chew something. Joe was too busy. I was too busy. No one had the time to teach him how to be calm and submissive. Joe and I were being lazy. Share your food with your dog to show him you love him. We just didn't have the time to drive all the way to the supermarket to grab a bag of dog food.

My skip runs and runs and turns back to look at me. My lungs are about to burst. Still I run after him. Nope, I don't really need that 1500 dollars. But I have my pride. I am a bounty hunter. I am a pro and my mentor is Batman. And I do have my gun with me. And yeah, it's loaded. Do you know how hard it is to shoot a running target? Do you know how hard it is to make an honest living? This is Trenton, New Jersey. Where the crime rate is skyrocketing high and the people rude and sometimes menacing. And where's Lula when you need her to jump and land onto somebody?

No one in the street bothers to look at us. My skip keeps running. I keep chasing him. I try my best to concentrate. I try to breathe and ignore the pain in my chest. We come to a crossroad. Did I just hear the sound of sirens? Did the corner of my eye just catch a glimpse of something red, fast, huge, and shining? My skip doesn't stop at the red light. I hear the car horns blasting and brakes screeching. I manage to stop at the last second. My skip is about to make it to the other side. He turns back to look at me with a triumphant little smile. Then the big red 18-wheeler hits him. Everyone on the streets screams.

My relationship with Joe was like a trainwreck. We were moving toward each other at high speed and neither of the two of us wanted to chicken out and hit the brake first. We dared each other. We punished ourselves. Shits happened and we hung on to each other. Jack could easily have come along for the ride, and lived to a ripe old age with Rose, but no, Romeo must die. And once again poor Leonardo didn't win the Oscar. The driver of the 18-wheeler jumps off the vehicle and starts yelling. My skip crawls out slowly from under the car and collapses to the ground. The driver hit the brake in time. We, the bystanders, let out a collective sigh of relief. The smell of burnt rubber fills the air. Two police officers get out of their car and approach the scene; one of them spots me in the crowd and gives me a white teeth smile. We both know it wasn't me in that video. I heard that everyone down at the station jokes about Joe's hairy ass. And the Chief is not amused.

The familiar SUV pulls to a stop. The familiar man comes out from behind the wheel. His o'clock shadow is too dark. His hair is too long. He looks pissed and annoyed. He and his fiancée had a huge fight when he warned her not to upload more videos. He scowls at me, at my skip, at the driver, at everyone, at the world, and at the whole universe. Turns out I am the smarter and luckier one. I ran five miles and didn't die. And I caught my skip with a little unexpected help. A shining black SUV stops by the side of the road. Lula pokes her head out from the passenger seat. I've never seen her this happy. I have never seen Tank smile so brightly. I gape at Lula's ring.

The beautiful diamond smiles back at me.


End file.
